Complications of Circumstance
by Sherlocked Otaku no. 42
Summary: REWRITTEN! Okay,sorry for those of you who liked the original,but I didn't.Sorry.The concept is still the same,J/OC,and the full and redone summary is inside.Sorry again...Enjoy!RR please!XOXO NS
1. Chapter 1

Okay, I'm sorry I erased this to those of you who enjoyed the original, but a better and hopefully more elaborate story has come into my head. Don't be mad! It still consists of the basic story that I was working with before, but this time there's more to it than just find girl, rescue girl, turn her bad, get the girl. I'll put the full summary below, since I can't think of a short version for the basic one. Read that before you go on, it might be hard to understand. Thanks! Love you all, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Pout.

FULL SUMMARY: Tanya finds herself in all sorts of unbearable situations since the kidnapping of her uncle. First she is placed under protection by a secret sect of the government, then she has no choice but to leave home for her family's safety. She needs to repeatedly change her identity, her life, her personality. And each time she has settled into the life she gets, there they are again. To come after her. They want to kill her. The thing is, only she knows why. And now she is sent to live in Gotham city. Needless to say, she has never heard of the place, since she lived in a remote state in a remote area. At first. Now she doesn't know where she really lives anymore. She has also never heard of this guy Bruce Wayne. He's who she needs to live with. Apparently, she will be safe there. But with Bruce trying to keep a secret he knows she'll find out and the Joker having broken out of the asylum... again... things aren't looking so bright. And then the Clown Prince finds her, of course, and _then_... Well, who says good girls can't go a little bad?

Ch. 1

Tanya was an average girl who used to have an average life. Average house, average parents, average siblings, average town, with no problems. Then it all came crashing down about two years ago. When she went to live with her scientist uncle, she thought she would make a good assistant. And she did, and he was happy to have her around. After losing his wife, it was a nice change to have someone else living with him again. And she was so eager to help, too, having never been around all the fancy gadgets and gizmos and test tubes before. Then there was a visitor. Someone from a group of people calling themselves simply "The Red Corp." It sounded like an army sect or something. Because of his lab in the basement the bills were high. Rent was cheap, considering, but still unaffordable. All of Charlie's money went to his research. When the guy showed up offering them a large sum of money for one simple little task, they hesitated. Things like that don't just happen. Often when something like that happens, it usually winds up being bad. But the man was friendly, and he had a nice way of speaking. And it was money. Money that could be used not only to pay off all of the debts uncle Charlie owed, but also to help Tanya's parents. They could all find a nice house, big enough for all of them _and_ his lab, and then hopefully get started on a good life. One where they all had better jobs, and could afford everything they needed. They didn't need to be filthy rich. They just wanted to be able to get by.

Her uncle was given a week to decide. They talked with her parents, and they talked with each other. After the week was up, they had decided that even if this turned out to be a scam or something worse, it was an opportunity. They needed the money, and they might not get another chance. When they called, it turned out the number was, in fact, legit. A secretary answered, and then connected them to the man they had spoken with. He came back and explained. It was top secret, so they were not allowed to know what it was they were creating. They agreed, reluctantly. They were given plans, and they were told there was no time limit for this, it was simply something they wanted to be created. It was a chemical. Half of the ingredients not even Charlie had heard of. It would be provided as needed, they were told. They were not told what kind of chemicals they were. They would know in time, apparently.

And they did find out in time.

They tried to destroy it, to get rid of the whole thing. They tried so hard. When asked for a sample, they sent them a false one. It was a mistake. It left Tanya getting up off of a cold, hard floor to find her uncle Charlie missing, the place torn apart, and all of their notes on the chemical vanished. And she called the police and cried as she spoke.

-

On top of a building stood a man dressed in black. A cape billowed about in the wind. He was searching for someone he probably wouldn't find tonight. He took out a small piece of folded paper with a question mark on the outside, in green, and opened it up. He had no idea what to make of the riddle inside. He had tried three possibilities, and not a single one had been correct. He had checked for alternate names for buildings, previous names, nicknames. All in vain. Now was no different. He was ready to go home. Then, the screeching of tires, from several different cars, two shots, a female scream, she was yelling a man's name. There was more yelling, more shots, and then it went quiet until, speeding closer to the noises, he could make out running footsteps, and shouting. He froze when someone dressed in a green shirt and purple pants dashed across his field of vision. The Joker? He didn't understand... But he couldn't risk it, especially since there was someone who needed his help. And then the person in the Clown's colors dashed under a street lamp. A female. Now he was confused.

Three people followed her, one of them fired a shot in her direction. Judging by the cry that followed, she had been hit, but was still capable of running for her life. She was limping, however, and doing so was not helping the wound. He took out two of the three men, wondering why they thought there needed to be three of them, and then, having lost sight of the girl and the last man, he went topside and grappled up to the nearest roof. She had run very far, and gone down an alleyway. Either she was foolish or she didn't know where she was. The last had her backed up against a fence. She was crying, and couldn't put any pressure on her left leg. It was bleeding badly. He ran toward them until he thought it was best to slow down and quiet himself before he was heard. Unfortunately, he had landed on a metal roof.

He watched as he snuck forward. The man went after her, and she fell when she moved too quickly, crawling backwards towards the open end of the alley. He caught up to her quickly, and when he dove, the man on the roof was prepared to run again, but the man below him leapt back, holding the side of his face. The girl had grabbed a nearby piece of glass and struck out in self defense. He knew he should speed up, and he did, but kept his speed to a minimum, still not wanting to be seen yet. He quickened to a run when the other man lunged again, after his victim had used a dumpster to pull herself back up to a standing position. And then there was blurred movement, a bullet went off and bounced somewhere into the darkness, and the man went down. He didn't get back up. Oh, no.

She looked absolutely horrified. She stared down at the body of the man she had just killed, blood gushing from a freshly slashed neck, and began sobbing. She was shaking horribly. His blood was all over her, from the spray, and she looked as though she were about to be sick. She sank down against the wall, hand pressed over her mouth, making no sound except small gasps through her tears. She didn't know what to do. It had been self defense, he knew that. She looked as though she would forever regret it. And she needed help. Not only was she wounded, but she appeared to be in great danger. There were sounds of more men coming toward the alley. He had no choice. He dropped down from the roof, carefully and as gently as possible, and noted how she let out a strangled cry and backed into the corner between the wall and the dumpster, cowering there and waiting for her punishment. She would receive none.

"It's all right," he said, and she let out a sound that suggested she was attempting to speak. "It's all right. I won't hurt you." He moved forward, trying to show her he meant no harm.

"I di—dn't mean to, I didn't..." she choked out, her sobs breaking her words.

"I know. I was coming to help you, I saw. It's all right, just give me your hand."

She tried to back up again before realizing she couldn't, and simply curled up even more, as best she could with a wounded leg.

"It's okay. Come on." She had stopped talking, worried she was in trouble, but shook her head. "You've been shot. I can help you." When he crouched in front of her, he realized she was looking past him, eyes wide and even more frightened. He looked in that direction and saw two more men coming at them, one with a gun, the other a knife. They were dressed in the same black clothing as the previous three men. Five, then? After one girl? Why? He would not be able to save her from them and take them out at the same time. He stunned them with a flash, and then, without further ado, scooped the young lady up and fired his grappling gun, leaving the men below them to their confusion. It was a short run back to the bat-mobile, and when they got there, he gently placed her in the back seat and leaned in to look at her. She flinched and tried to move away, but the pain in her leg, and, he now noticed, a gash from a graze in her side, stopped her from moving too far. He comforted her with a few quiet words, and she let him look at her wounds, eyes wide and face pale. The gash would be fine, and while the bullet in her leg had done some damage, she would be able to walk again just fine once it was healed, although it would leave behind a nasty scar, most likely. He would have to remove some bullet fragments, though. After that confirmation, he stood up and closed the door, pausing to speak into his communicator before entering the driver's seat.

"Alfred?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Have some tea ready in the cave. We'll be having a guest."

A/N: Okay, as brief as that chapter was, I do hope it was good enough to catch your interests, and I hope I'll see you next time for the next chapter! Thanks again, bye!


	2. Chapter 2

Hi! This is the second chapter of this, obviously. I hope you enjoy this one as much as you did the first chapter, and thank you for looking at this one, too! As usual, enjoy!

URGENT NOTE: IF YOU DIDN'T READ THE FIRST CHAPTER, YOU NEED TO! THIS IS AN ALTERED VERSION OF THE ORIGINAL STORY, IT HAS BEEN REPLACED!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ch.2

She didn't know where she was, or what had just happened. At the moment, she couldn't think straight. All she could see, over and over in her mind, was Andrew's head, two bullets puncturing their way through his skull, and all she could feel was the blood spattering over the side of her face. Her throat still hurt from when she had screamed so loud. And she was aware that she had killed a man. She, Tanya, who had never even gotten into a school fight in the playground, who had never raised a hand, ever, to _anyone_, had just slashed open a man's throat. She couldn't see. All that was in her head and her vision itself seemed to be in shades of red. No words formed in her mind, just pictures, horrible, flashing pictures that she didn't want to see.

She had stopped being able to see straight after the incident in the alley. She knew there had been a person who came down from the roof. She knew she was scared of him, because she didn't know who he was or where she was, or why she was there. But he had helped her, which was something she had to force herself to recognize. Her heart, however, was still pounding in her ears, and each time it thumped, it sent an extra wave of red over her field of vision. All she could do now was cry. And that was what she was doing. She was sitting in the back of a car that she didn't recognize because the man who had helped her had put her here. He was talking to her now, in calm, soothing tones, but her mind gave no response and neither did she. He checked her wounds and then closed the door. He went to the front and got inside, and they began to move. She hoped he didn't hear the soft, weak cry of surprise she let out when the car started up.

He tried to talk to her again after a while, but she still gave no answer. She had lost her voice. It wasn't there anymore. She had lost Andrew and killed a man. She was gone right now. It would take a great deal of coaxing, if that was what could be used, to get her back. Her leg hurt, she was in more pain than she had ever been in before. But she took it. She took the pain as her punishment for what she had just done. It might not have been entirely wrong, she hadn't meant to kill him, she was protecting herself. But it hadn't been entirely right, either. And now the pain was what she got for having done it. Andrew was gone, and there was no one who could comfort her here any longer. She was alone and in pain because she had done a bad thing.

It was a long time before they got to wherever it was they were going. Since she couldn't see, not only because of the red, but because she had never looked out of the window, only down at her lap and her hands, now dirtied beyond cleaning, she didn't know where they had gone. Her hands would never be clean again, no matter how hard she scrubbed. Dirty.

The man gently lifted her out of the back seat of the car and draped one of her arms over his shoulders, helping her walk. He sat her down in a chair. It was very dark in here, but she liked the dark for now. The red had now gone to brown because of the dark. She wanted it to stay that way until it went away. The dark was good.

The man spoke to her again. He came close to her with something in his hand. She couldn't see what it was, it was all brown and black, and she let him lift the leg of her pants to better inspect the wound. He told her something else, and there was a brief stab from a needle. She didn't flinch, not one bit. The man gave her something in a cup. She was aware of warmth from it touching her hand, and for the first time realized that she was cold, very cold. At first she didn't drink it. When she did, she moved slowly, as though she was unused to the movement. It was warm, and the warmth made a small line down the center of her body. The line of warmth went away. She wanted another. So she sipped the sweet liquid again. The brown went away. Again. She was warmer now, and the black changed to gray. Another sip changed that to a light bluish color, and the last made it all go away. The cup was empty.

"There," the man said, "It's all right."

She looked up. He was wearing black, and a mask covered his face. She wondered why, but the thought quickly dissolved to nothing. Nothing mattered any longer. The pain was gone. She still could not speak. When she noticed the numbness of her leg, she looked down at it. It made her stomach churn, and she looked away.

"I gave you some morphine. It makes the pain stop."

She looked at him again, a question in her eyes. But she didn't know what question it was.

"You were hit in the leg with a bullet. I can fix it up for you, but it'll take a while. Will you be all right?"

She didn't know, and looked around for a second at nothing before her eyes came to rest on her empty cup.

"Would you like some more tea?"

She looked at him, glanced at the cup, and forced her head into a stiff nod. She watched his hands when they poured the tea, trying to focus on something, anything.

"Do you know who those men were?"

A look. Nothing was in it.

"That man in the alleyway. Do you know who he was?"

Alley. Blood. Death. She looked down and saw the man's blood on her shirt, and let out a yell, frantically ripping open the buttons and throwing the shirt off and onto the floor. She didn't care that she only had on a bra beneath it, she wanted the blood to go away, she needed it to go away. He was holding her hands, and she was aware that she had been trying to wipe blood off her flesh that wasn't even there.

"Calm down! Calm down, it's gone now. It's all right now. You'll hurt yourself if you do anything else. It's all right now."

Panting, she looked back up into the man's face, and, very slowly, she relaxed again, the sound of his voice bringing her back. She was relieved she could hear him. She stopped.

"Good. Here, hold on a second." He disappeared for a few seconds, and it was so long she almost thought he had gone away and left her, but he came back with a blanket. He draped it over her shoulders. Very slowly, her hands touched it, and then she pulled it tightly around her. There was a pause. "Are you hungry?"

A blank stare.

"Are you hungry?" he asked again, staying calm. She thought. Forced a nod. She couldn't remember when she had last eaten, or what, or with whom. That did not mean that she hadn't eaten in a long time. It meant she could not remember. Parts of her mind were still blank. She didn't know what being hungry felt like right now.

"I'm gonna go get you some food, okay? But first, I'll wrap up that leg." She watched, neither feeling nor thinking anything, as he brought out some bandages and wrapped her wound tightly. It still made her stomach churn, but she kept her eyes fixed on it, her punishment. When he was finished, he handed her her cup of tea again, and told her softly to keep drinking it. She took it in her hands and looked at him, watched him get up. He was very near the door when the first word she had said since the alley came out of her lips. It was very soft, and very weak, but it came out.

"Thank you." She said nothing more.

"You're welcome," he said, smiling kindly before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. And she sat in the dark, all thoughts and emotions drowned. Numb.

A/N: That was the second chapter! Hope you enjoyed it, and thank you as usual for reading thus far! Stay tuned! Bye!


	3. Chapter 3

Hi! I remembered this one, finally! I'm very sorry to have kept you all waiting, and I hope what few fans of the story I have can forgive me! If I knew what prostrating oneself before another actually looked like I would do it and beg that forgiveness. I probably shouldn't have very high hopes for this story, not as many people seem to like it as much as my other ones... I have a Watchmen fic that I am particularly proud of because of the surprising number of fans! Yay! Anyways, I shall stop talking now! Enjoy!

ch. 3

"Ah. Master Bruce," Alfred said, coming to meet his young ward, "And how is our guest?"

"She should be alright for now."

"I was unaware that you had taken to bringing young ladies to such a secret place, sir, are you sure that is particularly wise?"

He smiled at the very subtle joke - even Alfred would never actually believe that was what he was doing. His smile faded quickly, though, as he held up the blood stained shirt she had ripped off.

"Oh, my... Is she...?"

"Alive, but in shock." He continued to walk toward the stairs. "She was being chased by five men with guns and knives. Apparently, some of this blood came from before I saw her. It was there when I first caught sight, anyway."

"Then who's is it?"

"I can't be sure. I need to go back as quickly as I can and find the place where it occurred. I heard screeching tires, and gunshots before she screamed, but I thought I should bring her back here first, for her own safety."

"I see..."

"I'll need you to send this to Lucius and ask him to process the DNA. I don't think it would be too smart to do it in front of her, and I don't have the right technology up here to look at it. And she took it off herself, I didn't, stop looking so confused. She just wanted to get the blood off..."

"Sir?" Alfred prompted, knowing there was more to that statement.

"She killed a man, Alfred. In self-defense. I saw the whole thing, it was in an alley. They were all after her."

"Why would they think it necessary to send five men after one young lady?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Just get that to Lucius."

"Certainly... Where are you going?"

"Upstairs. She needs another shirt."

#

When he went back down to the cave, the girl who had come with him was in the exact same position he had left her in, seated on a chair with a bandage wrapped around her wound. She still appeared to be unable to speak, and in some state of shock. He politely handed her one of his own shirts, and gave her a small smile, hoping it would make her feel comfortable. She looked at him with a face that still could not provide any emotion.

"I need to go now, but I'll come right back. Don't worry, you're safe here. And I'll try not to be gone for longer than an hour, alright?" He crouched in front her as he said this, studying her features for any sign that she had registered, or that she was, in fact, alright with this. She appeared to be at least accepting of the situation, which was good. Devoid of emotions as she was, she seemed to know what was going on at least. He nodded, feeling that she got it, and went to the bat-mobile, got in, and drove away again, feeling almost annoyed with himself that he needed to leave her behind, injured badly and greatly traumatized. But it had to be done.

Not ten minutes later and he was back on the scene. The dead man had been moved, rolled over. His pockets had been emptied, his weapon removed. Either the other men had done this, or some heartless thug had picked his pockets, seeing as he was dead. He looked over the injuries the girl had inflicted. The first unnerved him slightly, although he knew that it had been an accident. The left side of his face had been gashed open from lip to ear. Judging by the way the cut grew more shallow the further back it went, it had been a simple, lucky swipe, having caught his mouth. The gash on his throat had been much the same, but had hit an artery. Even now, blood was still gushing onto the pavement. There was nothing more he could do here except to take fingerprints, in case the DNA wasn't a match in the database. He was, however, very surprised to learn that this man had none. Even both of his hand-prints were completely gone, removed surgically a while ago. Damn.

Getting up, he looked around, retracing the scene from memory, while it was still fresh, and searched around the area for the bullet that had ricocheted off. He found one, and put it in a bag for later analysis. Continuing to go back, he found three more bullets, and was even able to trace the route the girl had run, simply because the only way back from where he had first seen her was so obvious. Directly down a road. It was also not hard to find a car, doors wide open, engine still running, in the middle of this road. There were skid marks from the tires of two other cars around it, including marks from the car he was currently looking at. The car was dark blue, almost black, a Toyota of some kind. There was blood inside, enough of it to suggest that something bad had happened, but nothing else. The registration papers, anything with a name, were gone completely. They had even removed the plates.

But, if they had gone through all the trouble of getting rid of everything else, why not the blood, which could be easily used to identify the owner as well? Confused, and looking around for any more evidence, he was jumped. The men he had stunned earlier leaped out of the shadows as though they had never even been there at all. Why hadn't he noticed them when he had looked around?

The fight was short, and he needed to be careful to avoid the bullets. In the end, he was disappointed. One of them got away, even though he had chased him as far as he could. He had turned down an alley and somehow disappeared. With the other man cuffed to a lamppost, he couldn't risk going any further after this one. Angry, he returned to the first man. He dumped him in front of the prison, unconscious, cuffed him to the rail on the stairs, and left a note about where to find the car. He would have stayed longer, and he should have, really, but that girl needed help. He went back again.

#

She was still sitting there when he got back, blank and staring into nowhere. What had happened that had done this to her? It was true, she had killed someone, and judging by her reaction to having done so, she hadn't ever done that before. But there had been blood in the car, the body removed. Perhaps he had gotten there before they got to that part? The blood wasn't hers, there was too much of it there to suggest that. There had been someone else in the car. Whoever that was was dead now, there was no question about it, and he needed to know why. He could ask her, but under the circumstances that would be inappropriate. He settled on talking gently to her and hoping she would allow him to finish his work on mending her wounds. He wished she would move, but she hadn't even put on the shirt he had given her...

#

Three days. It took three days for him to get a name from her. He had dedicated most of his time to caring for her, and had taken to sort of avoiding calling her anything at all, except for an occasional sweetheart. He didn't know whether or not she took it as rude, but she didn't seem to mind.

"How're you doing, sweetheart?" he said. The word sounded strange coming from this voice. He had brought her lunch. He didn't expect an answer.

"Fine..."

He prevented showing his surprise, and instead set down the tray. "That's good. May I?" He held out his hands, indicating he'd like to check on her leg. She nodded, and pulled back the blanket.

She was quiet as she watched him look at it for a while, and then asked a question when he began cleaning it off. "Why are you helping me?"

He smiled politely, a very odd effect under the mask, since he rarely did so. "It's what I do. I help people."

"Are you a doctor or something?"

He laughed. "No, but I was given basic medical training."

"Oh." She watched as he plucked out another piece of bullet. He put it on the table next to him, and continued. "Why do you keep those?"

"Well, I need to keep them. This way I can piece them all together as best as the computer can, and match the type of gun that was used. Possibly who shot it at you." He waited. That had been a subtle way of questioning her about whether or not she knew.

"I don't know who it was..." Her voice had gotten quiet, her eyes showed pain. Not the kind of pain she had from her injuries, but another kind.

Instinct caused him to ask another question, too early. "Do you know why, though?"

Fear. That was fear that went across her face. She almost pulled away, but it hurt her. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, "I shouldn't have asked that so soon. But... You do know I'll need to know in order to help you, don't you?"

Nothing. He had struck a chord somewhere, and now he might not get a word out of her again for another three days. That had been stupid.

And then, she took a breath. It shuddered, the way breath would if the person were crying, but she wasn't. Or couldn't. She wanted to speak, but didn't know what to say.

"It's alright. You don't need to tell me right away, you'll have to stay here longer as it is, so this can heal. If you wouldn't mind, though, could I at least hear your name?"

"My real name?"

Did she have some kind of alias? "If you want, yes."

"I'm not supposed to tell anyone that..."

"I can assure you, beyond any doubt, that it won't leave this cave. Nothing will. You have my word." Of course, that wasn't entirely true... He would tell Alfred, of course, and Lucius. No one else, though, and they both were the only people he really trusted. He may trust Gordon, but he wouldn't tell him on the grounds that something might be started because of it. That wasn't something he was looking forward to.

She stared uncertainly at him for a long time. What could she do? He had helped her... Another breath was taken, followed this time by speech. "My name... Is Tanya Istivich. But... Here I'm supposed to say that my name is Alice Pennyworth. I... Need to stay with someone here..."

Under the mask, under the serious gaze, Bruce Waynes' mind jolted. There was a girl... He had a friend, by the name of Andrew, who would be bringing her to them, she was in some kind of danger and needed to be kept safe. He knew who Bruce was, and had thought it in her best interests to leave her with him. She was to pretend she was Alfreds' granddaughter...

"I don't know who he is. Andrew..." Her voice cracked, and she looked as though she was about to burst into tears suddenly. "He said his name is Bruce..." And then she did cry, and he didn't know what to do. "They killed him... They killed him, they shot him in the head while we were driving to the house I was supposed to stay at..."

Ice shot through his chest. Andrew was dead. He was one of his only close friends that knew... They had shot him, she said...

He comforted her as best he could, already knowing that it would be still quite some time before he got the whole story. He would be investigating further tonight.

A/N: Okay! That was the most recent chapter of this story, and I hoped you all enjoyed it. Just so you know, I made Tanyas' last name up on the grounds that I couldn't think of any good ones to go with her first name. I was thinking Russian, but I think I typed it looking more German... She doesn't have an accent, though, it's just her family name. I hope that isn't anybodys' actual last name, I was trying not to sound too similar to anything, in case it annoyed someone for whatever stupid reason... Anyways, thanks for reading this, bye!


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